Remember When
by Lynnie Pop
Summary: Based on the world of the Last of Us but not containing any of the original characters. Beware of strong language and detailed scenes.
1. Chapter 1

Remember when… Remember when you would open your eyes and dream that you could touch the sky? Remember when the ocean blue rose to meet the stars with you? When simpler days stretched far ahead and there was meaning to life instead?

I can barely remember those days anymore; trapped in a horror dream, of nightmares worse than any imagination. A place where children were born knowing that the boogie man never existed and, if he did, he would never compare to what truly lived under their beds. It was now a place where darkness and night were the true blessings in life as, even the crazed, needed to shut their eyes for rest and the excited hope for the morning. I used to love the morning, to watch the sun begin to rise and stretch its arms to the evening sky; brushing against the darkened hues, caressing a blush out of its inky skin. Now we dreaded the morning, of opening our eyes to another day of sunshine. To another day of losing more at the hands of what sat outside our doors…

We still don't know what it is that sat outside our doors, breathing down our necks, hunting, snarling like primitive beasts. That is, the rest of us "civilians" didn't know anything other than to listen to what we were told and move like sheep. Sheep to slaughter, that's what we were, corralled in a misshapen box of dingy metal and scraps of wood. The military kept us "safe" at the front of the gates in our little box of sanctuary, and they patrolled the streets with their guns totted in arms, ready to take down anyone who may just breathe incorrectly. The streets were riddled with dirt, grime, trash, skittering critters, splatters of things we didn't dare stare at for more than a few seconds. The gutters were lined with more trash, rats munching on what we hoped was a fallen bird but was much too large to be one. Huddled in the darker corners were ravenous things that were once beloved neighbors, trying to scrounge up food from whatever lay around the streets, their faces dirty and their teeth stained an odd shade of rust. The stink was the worst of it, a mixture of decay and unwashed bodies; where could anyone find uncontaminated water unless it was given to you at the rations station? Who would use that precious liquid for more than drink, anyway?

Everything was now regulated by the military and the government that we never heard from again since the headlines began to read "Mysterious Ailment Discovered by Doctors" and "Small Town Disease Becomes National Epidemic". Everyone was treated like an enemy and the only "peace" we had was kept by those gun-totting men. Their version of peace though…

"I'll do whatever you want," I would hear women whisper to the soldiers, "Anything for an extra ration."

What those soldiers asked of them… I'd never sink so low. Most of the time, though, the soldiers would do whatever they wanted, tossed those pathetic girls back from where they came with nothing more than what they came with. You only got rations if you paid for them the proper way, not because you did them a "favor."

"Please, help, my child is sick." I remember hearing those words and learned that day to never say to anyone that someone was sick. The soldiers feigned interest and concern, they marched with the woman to her home but no one ever noticed that there wasn't a medic in their ranks, nor was there at least a small first aid kit strapped to someone's hip. The only thing than shone on their person was the glimmer of their handhelds… I remember the next sound was of a woman shrieking for them to not do it, it wasn't the infection. It was simply the common cold, she'd begged. The child screamed and wailed for his mother until the sound stopped with a choked gurgle. Later we would all know that the child's throat was slit and his body disposed of by fire to make sure the "sickness" was purged. The screaming mother was soon killed to assure that "the infection had not taken her too and that the rest of the town was safe." The house was put to the torch and now only remained a scorched scar upon the earth where not even plants would dare to grow.

I remember holding my own sons that night for a minute longer before they were put to bed. I watched them in the dark, the moonlight kissing lighter shades of blonde from their hair, whitening their skins to almost deathly pallor. I shivered, thinking of them dead, not breathing.

"Fletcher," I'd called for my husband when I entered our room and didn't find him on the lumpy mattress. I stared for a moment at the disheveled sheets and pretended I didn't see the small traces of blood on them.

I'd walked as quietly as I could through the dirty hallway of our home, listening for any creaking on the wood. It was complete silence, except of course for some crunching, cracking, slapping sounds. I didn't know what I was expecting. I didn't know why I expected anything else. I pushed up the slightly cracked door to my sons' room and stood there watching. It was like seeing a dog tearing a piece of steak. Those weren't my sons and that, crouched above them, was not my husband. "Fletcher…" I breathed, calmly. I don't know why I sounded so calm. He'd whirled on me, his face a mess of red and eyes bloodshot and wide.

"I… I didn't mean to." He garbled, his once beautiful green eyes whirling and darting around in his head. Why hadn't I seen it before? He'd run the fever, the chills, he'd become reclusive, but I didn't want him to be infected.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to him just as he lunged at me next. At first, I didn't want to put up a fight, I wanted to die with my babies and my husband. But there was some sort of surge in my veins. I threw up my hands to guard my vital areas as we smashed to the ground, knocking the warped door of the boys' room off its hinges. He howled and grabbed at me with cracked and bloodied hands but I kicked and pushed right back at him. How was I to survive this? How could I kill my own husband?

Around my neck was a chain. It was a thin, dainty thing given to me by my husband when we first started dating. It was a tulip with a long stem made of the purest gold. I yanked as hard as I could and stabbed the little object into his perfect green eye. He reared back and scratched gouges into his face, trying to pull the metal flower from his eye. I scuttled backwards like some awkward crab until I smacked into the wall. I pushed myself to my feet, ready to run when I was blasted by his body. I screamed while we surged to the floor again, taking down a wobbly wooden table with us. Again he started pounding at my body and scratching at my skin as if he wanted to make ribbons of me.

I felt my fingers suddenly curl around something and knew that was the only thing I had to keep me alive. I pulled the object towards me and managed to wedge it between us before he dove down on me again. The surging of his movement, coupled with my own upward thrusting momentum drove the object into his body, but not before he was about to sink his teeth into the curve of my shoulder. I screamed and pushed my weapon further into his body until he let go of me and screeched his own death. His body only twitched once before there was nothing; silence again. I lay there with his dead carcass over me, breathing sharply, staving off the pain and the need to faint. The moonlight coming through the window outlined the piece of wood jutting from Fletcher's back.

I don't know how long I lay there, but when I was finally able to push out from beneath my dead husband I saw and would always remember the look in his eyes: true peace.

I left my broken home that same night but didn't even make it past the porch before I'd fallen. Dizziness had hit me and I wasn't able to focus my eyes on anything. The world began to spin and my body had fallen like bricks to the concrete floor. I was sweating and breathing heavily and I was so shocked. The infection? My husband had passed it to me, I was sure, but it never took people over so quickly. I felt my stomach heave and my body spasm before I was choking up the nothing I had in my stomach before darkness slammed into me and I thought I was already becoming one of them.

* * *

"So peculiar…"

Beep… beep… beep…

"Impossible…"

Beep… beep… beep…

"The answer to our prayers…"

White light stung at my eyes when I was able to finally open them. I blinked away the tears that stung at them and tried to move my arms but found that I couldn't. I turned my head to the side and regretted it immediately, I surged up from the bed and puked my guts out all over the crisp white sheets covering my body and realized I still could barely move. When I sunk back into the hard bed I saw that my arms were bound and tubes were connected from them.

"Oh, you poor thing, still not able to keep a thing down." Someone tisked. I watched them come and change my sheets, wipe my face clean, and pat my shoulder like we were old friends.

"Wh…"

"Hush now, you've been through quite a bit," a straw with freezing water was thrust into my face and I sucked it down like I had never had any in my life. Well, it had been a long time since I'd had any clean water.

"How long?" I croaked in a voice rough with disuse.

"Now, now, there will be time for those things later. Right now you need to rest."

I blinked and took in my surroundings. I would've called it a hospital but… A chilling feeling came over me. There was a glass on one wall that could have been a window, only, I could see myself in it like a mirror. A one-way glass. The bed that I lay on mysteriously felt harder than it should and those straps around my wrists and ankles… Obviously not a reassuring thing.

"What happened?" I asked louder, still sounding oddly like a frog.

The nurse-like woman's face turned into a glare, no longer kindly. "I said, there will be time for that later." And she left.

Everything was silence except for the beeping monitor of my heart which had begun to spike a little with fear. I tried to pull at my bonds to see how much give they had. None. The beeping of the monitor spiked faster again. What hospital bound their patients? Why wasn't I dead? Or running around like those people who'd become infected?

"Good day, Mrs. McPhearson." I stopped my perusal of the room and stared at the broad shouldered man dressed in military wear who'd come from a door beside the one-way window. A door that had a number pad on it and a camera pointed straight at me perched above it.

"My husband is dead…" I said flatly.

"True… Would you prefer we address you by your maiden name?"

"What happened?" I asked. Ignoring his questions and pleasantries. The monitor continued to beep and betray my calm.

"What happened indeed…" He walked around my bed, his rubber-soled boots thumping and creaking on the tiled floor. He put his arms behind his back, lacing his fingers together, eyes staring straight up at the fluorescent lights in thought. "What indeed…" He pondered again. "You, ma'am, were attacked by an infected. And yet… here you are." He stopped beside me, legs spread, his handheld shining at his side. My eyes stayed on his weapon for a moment before I looked back up to him; no words would come to me. He moved his arms from his back and unearthed a clean sheet of paper from his back pocket. "It would seem, miss, that you are a rare commodity. Something that would be of great value to our nation," I couldn't even blink, could barely breathe. "It would seem that you are immune to the infection."

The beeping monitor ratcheted up and I thought I was going to pass out again. No, this was no hospital…


	2. Chapter 2

**This story began as a role play between a friend and I but he decided not to continue it anymore; I truly feel in love with the storyline and the characters so I'm continuing it. The story may seem a bit fast-paced in the beginning; I have been trying to edit it as best as I can to make it flow smoothly. Bare with me until I get to the point where we left off and I have complete control overall charactersand then the true magic begins.**

**Love,**

**Lynnie Pop**

* * *

Immune? How could I be immune? How could anyone be immune to anything like this? There was no known cure, nothing. I was supposed to be some sort of answer to everyone's prayers? Some sort of savior?

"Y-you have _got_ to be kidding me. There's no way. You're wrong. Your tests are wrong." Their machines were calibrated wrong. SOMETHING! There had to be a mistake!

"This is obviously too much for you, ma'am," the soldier moved to some cabinets and drew out a needle. "You just need to rest." Struggling was obviously useless, they expertly stuck me in those restraints and there was no way in hell I would be able to dodge a needle in the arm. He managed to get the needle into the main line and only pushed the plunger down a bit before popping outside the door stopped him and he dropped it. I glanced towards the one-way glass and watched the big guy march out the door before more popping and a bloodied guy came busting into my room.

This could not be happening. This must be some sort of nightmare. I'd wake up next to Fletcher and we'd be going on with our miserable lives. I watched the guy fumble with my restraints and realized, nope, this was real.

* * *

Morality was a luxury I couldn't afford. I had to make decisions in split second intervals; I couldn't allow my conscience to weigh down on my judgment. Where once there was a loving man; a husband and a father no more, what remained was a man whose only niche was self preservation.

A pandemic swept the globe, spreading like wildfire throughout the population until there was nothing left. The government declared martial law before it fizzled out. What remained of the military, mostly thugs and power hungry authoritarians, maintained safe zones. They were little more than fenced in portions of ruined cities with armed guards along its perimeters. Some speculated if the fences were to keep the infected out or to keep the non-infected in. It was easy to feel like a prisoner, what with everything being regulated by armed personnel-right down to the meals you eat and the water you drink. No one was permitted to leave the safe zones without proper authorization-in other words, unless you were granted special permissions to leave, it was the military's duty to keep you contained.

There were loopholes, of course, the armed guards were just as hungry as everyone else. Sometimes the right amount of ration cards could get them to look the other way, but that was only the desperate ones. Smuggling was an unorthodox practice, yet no one could deny its importance. Sometimes the military would send out scouts to nearby towns and cities to scrounge for some supplies, but it was the smugglers who were responsible for the influx of useful supplies.

It was a cutthroat lifestyle; everyone sought to advance themselves and didn't give two shits who they screwed over along the way. Where words might've once sorted out a squabble, bullets now took their place. No better way to negotiate than to put a bullet through the head of the motherfucker that tried to hang you out to dry.

I spent a better part of fifteen years running with men involved in the smuggling business. About ten years in, I found that I worked better alone. I had lost too many friends and a lover to my work. You couldn't rely on anyone outside the safe zones but yourself. If I had to run, I didn't have to worry that my partner could keep up. There is never a clear plan on the outside; most of it is improvised-I couldn't expect anyone to follow my lead when I was making everything up as I go.

It finally caught up with me in recent years. My legs didn't work like they used to, my eyelids were heavy, and my body grew weary of being subjected to a constant state of stress. As a result, my reflex and my overall effectiveness suffered. I was tired. I wanted to settle down and live out what years were left to me in relative peace.

It's never that easy.

Work detail was mandatory. Doing nothing draws unwanted attention from the military. Trouble has a way of finding me, no matter where I chose to hide.

"I need you, Phil. I've got no one else to go to. You know I wouldn't be here otherwise."

I paced back and forth across the creaky hardwood floor as I considered the proposal thrust unto me. I owed this fella a favor...What he asked of me was unlike anything I've undertaken. "You're asking me to put my ass out there for you, Ron. I mean-fuck, I know I owe you this, but this is insane. I've never broken anyone out before...Goddamn it. If I do this, I'm not welcomed here anymore. I won't be able to come back-they'll fucking hunt me."

Ron closed the distance between us and clapped a hand on my shoulder, "Trust me when I say that this will change everything. This ain't no normal girl, bud. She's immune. Been bit well over the time it would take for her to turn and she's still breathin'."

My eyes narrowed and I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "Do you really believe that? You ain't seen it for yourself, how can you know for sure?"

"The military wouldn't keep her around if it wasn't. This is for real. I got in touch with some of my colleagues outside the walls. They're bound for Seattle, got a safe zone out there filled with some like-minded inviduals who'd be elated at the chance to run some tests on this girl."

"What, you don't trust that the military can handle it?" I shook my head and turned away.

"You know as well as I do that there ain't a brain amongst those conniving bastards. They're in over their fucking heads. Can't be trusted to pull something as big as this off."

"Let's say I get her to Seattle, or wherever. What then? Your science...doctor buddies, they're just gonna discover the cure to the end of the world? Excuse me if I sound a bit cynical, but I smell bullshit."

This went on for another hour or two before my arm was twisted. I agreed to feel the situation out at the very least, but I had it in my mind that I would sure as hell going to it down. We approached the detainment facilities-barbed fences with lots of armed guards, the situation changed. My employer must've sensed that I wouldn't go through with it and decided to give me a little more incentive. One moment I'm walking down an empty street, just passing by, getting a good view of the place... Before I know it, I'm being shot at. When I look back at Ron, I see him and two other nameless fellas tossing molotov cocktails at the fences. A siren sounded and armed soldiers poured out of the detainment facility. Gunfire erupted on all sides, but I managed to find some cover in a nearby alleyway. Three multiplied into nine, twenty, thirty...There was a full blown militia fighting the soldiers. Ron had been planning this for awhile, I realized. I was the last piece to the puzzle. I considered making a run for it-I mean, what the fuck, I said I'd do him a favor, not give up my life. In the end, I chose to breach the facility while they were preoccupied with the firefight, mainly because there wasn't any place that I could run, and partly 'cause I was curious.

Took me a little trial and error and a hell of a lot of luck to locate where they were holding her without being discovered. Every hall looked the same and every hall had the exact same doors. There should've been men on duty outside, but all efforts were being focused on the miniature war at their doorstep. I pulled a 9mm from my waistband and chcecked the clip. Six shots... Had to make them count. Anxiety mounted in the pit of my chest as I rounded a corner and was pretty surprised to find one person posted outside one door. Looks like those bastards weren't as stupid as we thought. The poor rookie barely had a chance to even breathe a sound of alarm before I plugged his forehead with one shot. Five left.

_Don't fuck this up, Phil._ I told myself right before I burst through the door. They fired a bullet right through the center of my abdomen, but the second shot was mine, and I never miss. Got the bastard right between the eyes, splattered the back of his head all over his colleagues. The others were unarmed, one of them was a woman and a young man. Couldn't hold back. I shot them both without hesitation. They had been looking through a one way mirror...I staggered towards it and saw a woman lying on a makeshift bed. Restraints on her wrists and ankles bound her to the table.

"Alright then...I-" The door swung open, bigwig military type came through. He paused, taking in the scene of carnage with dead eyes.

"You bastard...You fucking monster!" He must've missed the gun in my hand, cause he started to rush me without drawing his sidearm. I raised it and fired till the gun was dry. All those medals must've been for decoration, I thought bitterly as I used the wall to support my weight. I entered the isolation chamber and stumbled toward the woman. I dropped my gun along the way... Dunno why. Guess I was a little delirious. I fumbled with her restraints clumsily, finding that my fingers weren't responding the way I needed them to, not to mention they were still slick with blood.

"I'm not going to hurt you." I breathed, "No questions. We need to get the fuck out of here right now before more of 'em show up. Now c'mon." Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was losing blood fast...The wound was a hell of a lot worse than it felt. Couldn't worry about it. Had to keep moving.

* * *

He was bleeding all over the place and trying to free me. I should've been grateful and all, but not in this world I was living in. As soon as all the restraints were off I shot from the table and pushed the guy aside knowing he was wounded, he was probably going to die anyway. "Thanks for the help, but... sorry." I pulled the monitors off my skin and the tubes connected to my arms before darting as fast as I could towards the door.

Turns out it wasn't fast at all. I went down like bricks and cursed myself for forgetting. How long had I been unconscious? My legs were uncooperative while I dragged myself up and grabbed the stand that held the IV drip lines and tossed the bags to the side, using the rolling stand as a way to hold my heavy body up.

I pushed through the door and felt my body getting heavier. What was wrong with me?

And, of course, I remembered then that giant soldier guy managed to shove a bit of that sedative into my body and I was beginning to feel like I weighed a million pounds. There was no way of knowing which way for me to go so I just chose a direction and tried to run which turned out to be some sort of wobble-trip-jog type thing. I heard explosions and gunshots outside and wondered what the hell was going on but didn't have time to care. I needed to find a way out and make sure Mr. Dead-on-His-Feet didn't catch me.


	3. Chapter 3

_**EDIT 8.25.2013: This story began as a role play between a friend and I but he decided not to continue it anymore; I truly feel in love with the storyline and the characters so I'm continuing it. The story may seem a bit fast-paced in the beginning; I have been trying to edit it as best as I can to make it flow smoothly. Bare with me until I get to the point where we left off and I have complete control overall charactersand then the true magic begins.**_

**Hello fans,**

**Just here to thank you all for reading. Promise more fun will be coming in the next chapter ;] If you are thoroughly enjoying please leave me a review or comment. I would love to know what I'm doing right and wrong and to hear that people actually like what they're reading from me. Thanks again!**

**Love,**

**Lynnie Pop**

* * *

**PHIL**

I was livid. Not only did I put my neck out there for a complete stranger, but I took a bullet for her, and after all that... She ran.

In the state that I was in, I could barely make a chase. I had to stop at least twice to catch my breath and try to fight through an overwhelming amount of pain. I could feel it every step I took, but I continued my pursuit. It couldn't be for nothing... I wasn't about to let myself die so insignificantly. Somehow I must've tapped into some reserve of adrenaline, because I was able to better chase the confused girl.

"Stop!" I tried to shout, but it was too demanding-it ended up coming out in the form of a hoarse whisper.

Regardless of what I thought at the time, luck was definitely on my side. Not only was I able to catch up with her with the help of her blood-smeared clues along the walls, but I managed to take hold of her arm. By then I was through being cordial, I twisted her arm behind her back and slammed her face first against the wall. There wasn't much time. I had to make it quick before someone responded to the gunshots.

"Goddamn it, I'm here to help you. Neither of us is going to make it out alive if you don't start listening to me!" I paused to let my words and the situation weigh in on her. "You run out the main doors and I can guarantee that they'll shoot you."

I released her slowly and raised my hands in surrender while backpedaling to give her some space. "My name is Phil... I was, well, hired to get you out of the city." I chose not to divulge the details of the request. Did she even know what the military wanted with her?

* * *

**HER**

Every fucking corridor looked the same! I felt like a million pounds and at the same time like my limbs were made out of rubber. The stand was sliding around in my sweaty palms while I pushed it along, my bare feet slapping on the cold metal floors. I swear I was just running in circles.

Then I was seeing stars and other ridiculous shit when I slammed my face into a wall. I yelped and let go of the stand, my arm getting wrenched behind my back. I tasted some blood in my mouth where I smacked my face and bit my lip. "Why the fuck should I listen to you, huh? Do you think I'm stupid? Everyone probably knows now!"

He let go of me and I whirled around, wall to my back. He looked really bad and blood was pumping from his gut. "You're not even gonna make it anyway." I glared and kept myself pressed against the wall, the cold of the concrete seeping into the flimsy hospital gown they'd draped me in. "I don't care who you are, Phil, you're probably just another person who wants me for this so-called immunity I have. Well, it's not true! I'm not immune!" I refused to believe it.

I surged forward and smashed my fist into his wounded abdomen hoping the pain would debilitate him enough to give me a head start. I stumbled backwards into the wall, unable to hold myself up without help-fucking useless-and dragged myself back down the corridor with the wall for support.

There was no way I was immune. No fucking way. That was unheard of! The collar of the gown parted slightly as I dragged myself against the wall and from the corner of my eye I saw a contorted mass of still slightly red skin at the curve of my neck. Fletcher had bitten me there that night... There were some scars on my arms from when he'd scratched at me after killing my sons. Tears stung at my eyes but I refused to let them fall.

It had to be true then... He bit me but I wasn't one of them. I was immune, god damn it!

* * *

**PHIL**

Clearly she was delusional; otherwise she would've realized that I was her best chance at survival. She drove her fist into my bullet wound that sending a surge of gut-wrenching pain coursing through my body. The air exploded out of my lungs in the form of a guttural cough and my knees buckled under my weight. I dropped to the ground clutching my abdomen as my consciousness slipped.

If I let go...If I submitted, I knew that I would die.

I clung to life, mustering what was left of my strength and pushed myself up cursing very audibly every single situation that had ultimately gotten me into this. While I struggled to catch my breath, I swung my head from side to side as I deduced which direction she must've taken. I used the wall to support my weight while I navigated the sprawling complex and now mentally cursed myself for even entertaining this terrible idea.

I was at my wit's end when I finally stumbled across her. Strangely enough, she appeared to be just as off balance as me. I propelled myself forward and gripped her by the shoulders, effectively pinning her against the wall again so that I could make her see reason.

"Listen to me!" I shouted, "I am not going to hurt you! I don't give a fuck if you're immune or not! I was asked to get you out of this city, and that's what I'm going to do. If I have to keep runnin' after you, I'm going to bleed out." Couldn't rule that out. I felt like hell...At any moment my consciousness could've slipped.

"Let go, let go, let go!" She shrieked, looking like she was getting ready to claw at me if needed. I gripped her forearms none too gently and almost shook her.

"Stop! Reach for the fucking sky, asshole!" A soldier wearing a gas mask approached with his rifle at the ready. "I said put your goddamned hands in the air!"

The sound of the soldier calling out to stopped the woman's struggling-finally-and she stared straight ahead, practically not breathing. I complied, naturally to the soldier's demands. I even took a step back and went down to my knees, but I kept the woman's eye and hoped that she could see that I needed a distraction. The bastard would shoot me without a second thought, but she was the valuable merchandise.

I saw her green eyes suddenly shift to me so full of fear but there was a hint of something new: determination, a well to live. It's about time she realized I was her only hope to get out of her alive. Her eyes quickly moved back to the soldier, "Help! Oh thank goodness you're here! I thought he was going to take me! Please help me!"

She put on the fakest damsel in distress act I had ever seen and threw herself at the soldier, gripping at him as if her life depended on it, hanging all her weight onto him. "Please, please!" She screamed hysterically-I almost laughed-clutching at his clothing in desperation.

That did it. The soldier lowered his weapon and shifted his attention away from me. I seized the moment and tore his sidearm from the holster on his thigh. He swung his rifle toward my head, but I already propelled myself back on my ass and fired twice at his head. Both shots hit their mark, effectively ending his life and buying us a short amount of time. Blood and other unmentionables spayed the woman and her eyes squeezed shut. She inhaled sharply, probably trying to keep from choking everywhere. I decided to hold onto the pistol since I'd stupidly left mine back at the isolation chamber and tucked the gun into the back of my waist. When I looked back up, I half expected her to run again, but she didn't. Sure took her sweet ass time figuring I was her best bet.

I gripped my bloodied abdomen as I ascended onto unsteady feet. "C'mon... We have to go." I gently took her by the wrist and led the way though I had no idea where we were going. The corridors seemed to blend together... Maybe I was the one who was delusional. Gunfire could still be heard in the distance. I wondered if Ron made it out alive... I owed him a bullet for putting me in such a fucked up predicament.

Eventually we found our way out the side of the complex and were met with what looked as if Ron had been waging war for hours with his men and the authorities. A better part of the fence had been knocked down and I wondered how they pulled that one off. It made for an easy escape thought I could hear shouts that were immediately quieted by gunfire and explosions. I led her down an alley and toward my apartment so that we could get our bearings before escaping the city. There was no fucking way we could stay here.

"What's your name?" I asked gruffly. I knew I'd succumb to the pain if I didn't do something to distract myself.

But she never said anything while her eyes scanned everything that had conspired outside the facility that held her, the reflection of fire something in her eyes. I continued to drag her down every alley I knew well enough to traverse with my eyes closed until we reached my apartment. It wasn't much but hidden enough from anyone whom I didn't want finding me.

* * *

**HER**

Upon arriving at what I guessed was Phil's apartment-more like a gopher hole-I slumped against a wall and immediately fell to the floor. "I can't do this..." I whispered to the empty air. "I'm not some sort of savior to all our problems. I can't have people dying for me." I rubbed at my face and came away with blood. That soldier died thinking he was saving my life from Phil. I scrubbed vigorously at my face with the hospital-type gown and leaned my forehead on my palms.

"I thought this shit couldn't get worse..." Glancing up at Phil I saw he was pretty much hanging on to his last thread and barely standing anymore. Fuck, not another one dying for me. "Do you have anything for that?" I asked and eyeballed his bloody gut. "You're pretty much a dead man standing there." I pushed to my feet and wobbled over to him crouching down to get a better look. "Sit. Shirt off. You saved my life, least I can do is save yours."

I padded about his apartment, not letting him refuse my help, listening to the slightly unsteady beat of my bare feet slapping around on his floor. My brain still felt like it was full of cotton and every now and then I would stumble into a wall until I found whatever supplies I could find. God, what had happened out there? Was that all for me? I'd been some nameless woman; another nothing in this city and now... I was a person others were dying for...

"You do know I have to pull that shit out of you, right?" I asked, thumping down beside him, shaking those thoughts from my mind. "Take off your belt," I glanced up at him with what I hoped was a grin and not a grimace, "No, I'm not trying to seduce you on our first date."

I pulled out a tweezer from his kit and pushed him onto his back, placing a hand on his abdomen, "Bite down on your belt, cowboy, you're in for a wild ride." I took a breath and looked back up at him with a little smile, "Name's Addison, by the way," then shoved the tweezers into the opening in his gut practically rummaging for the bullet until the tweezer struck something and I yanked out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you, fans, for reading. As stated before, this story started off as a role play between a friend and I which is why the writing was a bit fast paced in the beginning. This is where we left off and now I have control over all characters. Enjoy the read and let me know what you like and dislike! **

**Love, **

**Lynnie Pop**

* * *

"Damn that sucker was in there deep!" I mused, eyeing the scrap of bloody metal. "Take a look at-Jesus, Phil!" I dropped the bullet on the floor when Phil suddenly screamed, the belt not exactly doing what it was supposed to. He slumped back after his body finished jolting and spasming. I stared at him in silence, unsure if I'd killed the man. Slowly creeping forward, I placed my finger under his nose and felt his shallow breaths; he was out but not dead yet.

I finished dressing his wounds and cleaning it as best as I could with what supplies he'd scavenged and did my own hunt. There wasn't much in terms of women's clothing but something was better than nothing so I tossed a few things of his on. They were sizes too big and as I stared at myself in a stained, cracked mirror, I noticed how small I suddenly looked. Not because of the oversized clothing, but for the forlorn look in my eyes. At the edge of the button-up collar something caught my eye. I reached up and touched at the puckered skin on the curve of my neck. A rounded scar still red and healing, purple from bruising, a little black as if from poison, blistered like burns. Fletcher's bite. I fell to my knees suddenly; the weight of it all hitting me.

Fletcher killed my sons, should have infected me, and I killed him. But I was still alive and the wound looked like it was fighting the infection. For the second time in this really screwed up day I was realizing the truth.

Immune, but how?

"Addison?"

I barely noticed the tears on my cheeks until Phil was calling out to me and I bounded to my feet. I swiped at my face but knew there was no way to hide the puffy redness. "I'm here," I whispered, trying to keep my face hidden in the shadows. I tossed him a clean shirt and turned towards a window, away from Phil. "It was a crude fix up, but you're good as new, I guess."

"Yeah, hurt like hell. I guess that makes us even." Phil grumbled, wincing as he sat up and began to rummage through an old backpack, cursed a few times, and finally zipped it shut. "Looks like we'll be going this blind and I sure as hell ain't happy about it," he ran a hand through his shadow beard in thought before tugging the shirt over his head. "An acquaintance told me about your… situation. Infected or not; your life means a great deal to someone. They've asked me to get you out of the city. There's a refugee camp with some—how did he put it—like-minded people. You'll be safe there for the time being."

Everyone knew more about me than I knew about myself it seemed. There was some faceless someone out there protecting me.

"We have to go now. I need you to stick close to me no matter what happens. No more running away now, you hear? Don't think we'll get so lucky again." He scrutinized me with hard eyes and had me shuffling in nervousness then looked away, slinging the bag on his back

"I don't trust you worth shit, but I won't run. You're my best bet of saying alive." I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. I took a deep breath and turned from the window. "You're not getting some sort of payment out of this are you?" Why would he do this for free anyway?

"No. I owed someone a favor… If I'm being honest; I had no intention of breaking you out of there. Everything kind of happened all at once." Phil glared at the ground, "I'm pretty fucking pissed at Ron for putting me in this position. It was goddamned smart of him; he must've suspected that I'd decline."

Lovely, there was some puppet master out there pulling strings. I rubbed my eyes in sudden exhaustion and walked over to where I'd patched Phil up. "Mind?" I asked with a crooked smile and took the belt I'd had him use as a gag. "Your clothes aren't exactly women's size." I hitched up the oversized pants and belted them in place. "How do you plan to get us passed the gate? There is no way in hell they're just gonna let us waltz out, especially me."

Phil smirked at that, "You think that I've got some sort of plan for all of this? I'm as in over my head as you are—making all of this up as we go."

Fuck. I was laying my life in the hands of a clueless smuggler. I headed towards the door and touched the knob without opening it. God, how has my life changed? How did I suddenly go from a married woman of two sons to having nothing? I yanked the door open, refusing to cry. "Lead the way."

* * *

**PHIL**

I glanced back at the home I'd occupied for the past decade one last time and took point down the dim corridor. Debris crunched under our feet as we made our way down the steps, "We use a tunnel system to get in and out of the city without alerting the military. It's risky… The infected have been lurking about. Not a safe place to traverse alone." Not like we had a choice.

I peeked out a half-boarded window; the military had APCs patrolling the streets in pursuit of their escapee. Thankfully dusk was rapidly approaching, so we'd at least have the cover of night on our side. I waited for the patrol to make it down the block before I led her out onto the sidewalk. We took a sharp turn down an alley that turned into a maze of paths in between the cluster of buildings. There were likely foot patrols, so I made sure that each move we made was deliberate—there was no room for mistakes.

We made it to our destination unscathed and without the military's attention. It was another rundown apartment building that looked inconspicuous next to all the others. I continued into the lobby and took the hallway that led to the first floor rooms, we stopped at a room marked 4 and I knocked softly with my knuckles. There was a long pause, and then the door opened, but was secured by a chain. "That you, Phil?"

"Yeah. Open up, need to use the Cove."

"Shit… Glad to see that you're alright. The streets are a fuckin' mess, man." A dark-skinned man opened the door and let us inside. He paused to size up my companion and quirked a brow, but didn't question me. He knew better than that. "Be careful down there. All this ruckus—who knows what its attracted."

"Thanks." And we descended into hell.

Addison was quiet, much to my relief—I didn't care for small talk. I had to push her away, to treat her as I would a package that needed to be delivered. I imagine the silence must've been torturing her, for she eventually succumbed and posed a question.

"So... You said 'we' use this tunnel system and that guy back there knew you pretty well. Are you some sort of group?"

"No, I usually work alone. The risk is very high. I got tired of burying friends." I left it at that. There was more to it, of course, but I wasn't about to let a complete stranger into my life—especially someone I wouldn't be around for much longer if all went well.

* * *

**ADDISON**

There was a noise in the tunnel that I didn't hear or take much notice to. It sounded like footsteps and it was hard to discern if it really was someone else's or just ours echoing back at us.

"Like a group of vigilan-"

And I was on the ground. My lungs quickly deflated and I sucked greedily at the air. As soon as that was accomplished my brain registered the pain in my back and I was suddenly disoriented. Probably because I smacked the back of my noggin on the tunnel floor. Something was screaming and I knew it wasn't me. I blinked my vision clear and saw the remnants of a bloated, rotted human being. It reared back like a snake and struck down at me just as quickly. I only had time to thrust my arm up and feel its broken teeth sink into my forearm. Then my screams joined its.

"Phil!" Was the the only thing I could yell while the infected tore at me like a dog for fresh meat. The shirt I'd borrowed from Phil was a mess at the sleeve and I knew my arm probably didn't look any better. I tried shoving my knees up and into its stomach so I could try pushing it off me, but it had more strength than I knew. "Phil!"

He acted on impulse, grabbing a rabid man by his shoulders and forcing him against the wall of the tunnel. I was scared as all get out. I'd never been attacked like this before and I immediately feared for my life. No one survived bites. Ever. It was unheard of. He immediately lunged at Phil, but he caught the infected and dashed his head against the wall in one fluid motion. A gut-wrenching crack was heard the moment of impact and the rest of his body went limp. Phil took a step back and let the corpse slump down before turning to me.

"You gotta get that covered up."

I was practically in shock when Phil got to me. My body began shaking and I was beginning to blubber like some fool. I jerked up from the ground and nearly latched myself to Phil when he came for me. How could I have not heard that thing coming? I always prided myself in my listening skills.

He gently took my wounded arm in his hands to survey the damage. "I have a kit in my bag. Not really prepared for a bite, but I can at least bandage it up for you."

"I'm gonna die." I mumbled over and over staring at my ruin of an arm. I couldn't tell how bad it was with all the blood but I didn't see any bone so maybe it wasn't too bad. My head snapped up in alert suddenly. I saw the movement, didn't know what it was and didn't care. "There's more!" I shouted and shoved Phil to the side.

What was once human lunged over our heads just as we both went down hard, he grunted painfully when I conveniently landed on top of him and for a second I wanted to shout I don't weigh that much! I almost started to laugh hysterically at that thought. What was I thinking? I needed to get my priorities in check.

Quickly shoving off Phil, I grabbed his pack and jerked him up as best I could with one arm. No time for fixing me up now. I cradled my arm against my chest and slung Phil's pack on one shoulder. "Get us the fuck out of here, Phil, I'm not dying today!"

I could hear their screams and wanted to close my eyes and cover my ears against it. They sounded so tortured and so pained, they almost sounded like they wanted to be relieved of this miserable life. And I wished I could do that for them.

Phil scrambled to his feet and broke into a sprint. I matched his speed and from the corner of my eye I saw Phil turn and curse; there had to be more than there was previously. How could there be so many? Phil assured me that it was safe down here, or as safe as it could be in a place like this. From the look on Phil's face I think he was just as surprised as I was.

"Fuck!" he shouted, "I don't know where we are headed! Stay close!"

"I thought you knew this place!" I huffed between breaths, feeling my body running out of energy. What a fucked up day I've been having...

When we rounded yet another corner and a rusted gate met us I let out a pathetic yelp. "No fucking way." I muttered while we approached the gate. Phil immediately threw himself against it as I skidded to a halt. I heard the screams drawing nearer, "Hurry up, Phil," I said beneath my breath, bouncing on the balls of my feet in exasperation. "Hurry up, Phil!" I squeaked when his first attempt didn't work. The gate budged and we flooded in with the infected screaming closely behind our backs; I could practically feel their breaths on my neck; chills skittered down my entire body. Phil pushed the gate closed as best he could.

My relief was shortlived when we hit a deadend. The infected would be strong enough to bash down the rusted gate within seconds. We were fucked. Until a small ray of hope shone ahead: service ladder. I hitched the backpack up my arm and threw myself onto the ladder; Phil scaled it faster than me but I sure as hell wasn't going to give up. I dragged myself up as fast as I could, especially when I heard the cracking moan if bending metal; the rusty gate had given away. My heartbeat ratcheted up and I scrambled awkwardly up the ladder with one arm, slipping more than once and cursing with every mishap.

I could hear them... So close...

I was breathing heavily and sweating everywhere making my palms slide all over the dirty rungs. I looked up, fear shining in my eyes when Phil thrust his arm down into the hole for me.

"Give me your fucking hand!" He growled.

"I can't! I can't!" I screamed, so much fear coursing through me. I pushed myself further and reached feeling my fingertips barely brushing his just as something latched onto my leg. I screamed, not from pain, but from the surprise of the infected grabbing me. "Pull me up! Pull me up!" I practically cried in hysterics, pushing again as far as I could. I gripped painfully onto Phil's wrist and kicked at the infected at the same time. "God damn it! Get off me!"

When I suddenly felt the weight fall off me I dragged myself up with the help of Phil and landed smack on his chest. I stared down at him for a moment, shock in both of our eyes at being alive, before collapsing to the ground on my back beside Phil. "What... the fuck..." I breathed, eyes closed.

"You can fucking say that again."

Everything hurt now, the adrenaline was leaving me and my body was completely shot along with my injuries. This was seriously one fucked up day. I kept my eyes closed, listening to the frantic beating of my heart. It was stupid of me to seriously think that I could lay down like that in the middle of I don't know where, but I was feeling a little bit courageous after surviving a horde of infected.

"Sorry you got thrust into this mess," I said with laugh and pat his shoulder apologetically.

_Click_.

"Fuck," Phil whispered.

It was such an unmistakable sound; we all lived by it daily. I opened my eyes slowly and stared up at the barrel of a gun. "You've been biten," came a heavily Southern accented voice. "I apologize, ma'am, but I can't let you live."

I suppose since he was so polite about it, I could just let it slide. "Wait," I called up to him, throwing my hands up and slapping the backs of my hands against the pavement. "I'm not infected." I told him in exasperation, my heart kicking up into high gear for the fourth time in one single day.

The gun totting man snorted at me and actually smiled through his bushy beard, a scar puckering along the left side of his face. "Do you take me for a fool? It takes two days, _TWO DAYS,_ for the infection to take you. That bite there," he gestured to my mangled arm with his gun, "is less than a days' time."

Fuck. I was beginning to sound like Phil. "Look, I know you probably won't believe me-hell, I barely can believe it myself-but I'm immune to the infection." I slowly moved my arms and showed him the bite from my husband on my neck; it wasn't pretty to look at but it did show its age. "I was bitten before and by some miracle am still alive. I'm worth more to you alive." I glanced over at Phil and gave him an apologetic smile while he glared daggers at me; owed him the favor of trying to keep him alive after he saved mine. "Just let my friend go and I'll go quietly. He'll leave and pretend he never met the both of us."

The man eyed us for a moment and gestured for me to get up. I did, arms still raised in surrender. He shifted his gun towards Phil to make sure he didn't try anything heroic.

"Just let him go," I said quietly.

"Shut up and get moving," he growled at me, all Southern charm gone.

I complied and started to circle around him while he slowly began to walk backwards. I kept my eyes trained on the man and gave Phil another apologetic smile. Then there was a pop and I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief second, Phil's scream forever engraved in my memory. When I opened my eyes again there was a shot in Phil's thigh and he was doubled over clutching the wound. I couldn't help but scream as well before rounding on the man. "You agreed to let him go!"

"I did," he nodded and backhanded me across the face the gun handle knicking me on the lip, "but I don't want him following. Be thankful for that," he barked and grabbed me off the floor-I barely registered falling from the blow-before shoving the gun into my spine and pushing me forward.

I blinked the looming darkness from my vision and tried to glance over my shoulder at Phil. He my eyes and through the pain I could see determination and a promise to get me out of this alive in his gray eyes. And we left.

The man continued to push me along for a while; I didn't recognize anything. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

"You're immune," he suddenly mused aloud, "I wonder how..." I heard something that sounded like he was smacking his lips together and I couldn't help but shiver in trepidation. Old buildings loomed ahead and the man grabbed me by the arm, spinning me around. "We want what you have," he whispered, his nose touching mine. This close I could see his teeth were a rust color and his breath smelled like rotten meat and old pennies.

"W-we?" I stuttered and winced at the same time another click sounded; something cold around my wrists. Handcuffs.

He licked his lips, a feral look in his eyes. I could hear conversations coming from the old building but couldn't take my eyes off this man, my heart skipping faster, sweat beading on my skin. I bit my lip in fear and tasted blood from the cut there.

He reached up and touched my bloody lip. He examined the shining smear of red on his fingertips before placing them in his mouth, closing his eyes, savoring the flavor. "So sweet," he whispered and grabbed my jaw in an iron grip so at odds with his old face. I winced at the pain from the bruise that was most likely blooming on my cheek and stared in horror at the man. "Delicious." He licked his lips again and I cursed inwardly.

Cannibals.


	5. Chapter 5

**THANK YOU for reading. Please leave any comments about your likes and dislikes; anything will help me make the story better! Please check out the poll on my profile as well! I really hope you are loving this as much as I am. I sincerely appreciate you guys and entertaining you. Also, keep checking back for updates to the next chapter or click FAVORITE/FOLLOW to get updates via email. I'll try my best to update once a week.**

**Love,**

**Lynnie Pop**

* * *

**ADDISON**

"Do you-do you _seriously_ think what I_think_ you're thinking?"

My heart was pounding ridiculously in my chest and I knew my eyes were wide enough to pop out of my head. This guy must be joking...

Cannibals were kicked out of the quarantine zones after they were caught by a soldier patrol a long time ago. A lot of us let them do what they wanted because we didn't want their attention riveted on us and we quietly hefted sighs of relief when they were gone. The cannibals ate whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, but tried to remain in the shadows. Because their... particular tastes were not conducive to conserving human life, they were either eradicated on the spot or removed from the zones to be "taken care of" by the infected or animals, hell, they could Weeat each other for all we cared. We all hoped they'd died off, not being able to find things to eat, but it looked like there was a pretty damned huge community of them growing in that building.

The gun-totting kidnapper grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me towards the building. Oh. Hell. No. I dug my heels in and tried jerking out of his grip. The throbbing in my infected forearm was the least of my worries when the fellow spun around and swung his gun towards my forehead. Adrenaline kicked into gear and my survival instincts-yes, I did have those-propelled me down, ducking beneath his weapon and pushing forward until my head connected with his stomach. He grunted and the sound of his lungs deflating sparked a bit of hope in me while we both fell to the floor. I smashed the ground hard without the help of my hands, bound as they were with the handcuffs.

"You... stupid... whore..." He wheezed.

"You stupid _ass_," I growled at him, rolling across the muddy ground as far from him as possible. A strike of lightning lit the sky and I scrunched against the startling sound. In this part of the country it meant a storm was brewing and not too far off.

And I was right. A downpour started and the mud beneath me became a slippery paste. I rolled onto my stomach and shoved up to my feet. I barely got the chance to put one foot in front of the other before I slammed face first into the mud, Southern Ass-hole's hand gripping my ankle tightly. "You ain't goin' nowhere! Yer flesh'll save us from this damned virus."

"Are you a fucking_moron_?! There's _no way_ something like that is possible!"

I hefted myself onto my forearms and used my other leg to kick the cowboy in the face. He dodged to the side but I manged to get him in the shoulder. He howled and let go of my leg which propelled me into a slipping skid across the mud on my stomach. Rain water ran down my face and into my eyes, mud splashed everywhere and plastered Phil's baggy clothing to my skin. Damn it, Phil... Where the fuck was he? I slid across the ground as best I could and screeched when my ankle was grabbed again and I was dragged backwards. I tried clawing my fingers into the ground, but the wet dirt left no way for me to take hold of anything; I was only left with a mud ball which I chucked at Southern Asshole's face when he flipped me onto my back. He cursed angrily and I started kicking at him again, aiming for his passed of face. I was satisfied to hear the nasty crack of cartilage and his pained screams.

"Bitch!"

Oops...

Southern Asshole gripped my foot again and smiled, blood trailing from his smashed nose, mixing with the rain. There was a crack of thunder and and a flash of lightning at the same time he wrenched his hands in opposite directions, still holding my foot. Or had that crack been my bone and that flash my own brain panicking? I screamed and fell back, writhing in pain, knowing for sure the fuck-face broke my ankle.

"Won't be getting far now, will ya?" He chuckled, thinking he had me where he wanted me.

I tried to ignore the pain and wanted to pass out from it, but I wasn't going to let this fucker get me without a fight. I rolled onto my back and forced myself to breathe through the fog threatening to take me under. "I'll... fucking... kill you."

That wiped away his smug ass smile.

"Yer fuckin' lucky yer immune or I woulda killed yer pretty little self and savored that tight body of yers," he licked his lips as if he could imagine it now and I barely suppressed the urge to throw up when he enjoyed the flavor of his own blood. He must have noticed my disgust because he smiled slowly and walked towards me, a predator going in for the final kill. I scuttled backwards like a crab but couldn't make it far without the use of my hands and broken ankle. "What, you think there's goin' to be some sorta happy endin' fer ya? That man ain't comin' fer ya. He probably hightailed it outta here as soon as he got rid o' ya. Don't be sad, though. That's the way o' the world."

Would Phil have left me? I mean we only just met and he obviously didn't like the position he'd been put in. He said it himself, he hadn't actually planned on busting me out in the first place. Southern Asshole knew he had the doubt in my head and took advantage of it by launching himself at me, pinning my body down with the weight of his body-he was more muscular than his old, haggard face let on. Then he had his wrinkled, calloused hands on my neck and his fingers snaking around my throat. My body involuntarily tried to suck in air to scream but obviously encountered an obstacle and started convulsing. I could feel my limbs begin to spasm and adrenaline trying to force me to fight. I tried forcing my bound hands into his stomach but all I managed was a feeble scratching at his shirt. Darkness started to creep at the edges of my vision at the same time the rain pelleted us, making it difficult to keep my eyes open.

"Fuck... you..." I whispered up to him before flopping uselessly in the mud.

* * *

**PHIL**

I have taken two bullets for this woman.

The first wound still throbbed but didn't compare to the pulsing in my thigh now. I rolled onto my back and tried to calm my breathing and racing heart. A boom of thunder snapped me out of it with a jolt. God, I needed to get up and find Addison before the rain started and wiped away their footprints.

_Phil! Help me!_

Damn it, not again... I could feel my muscles spasm and clench in my thigh while I tried to sit up, ignoring the memories that tried to force their way into my head, and examine the gun shot wound. Thank goodness there was an exit in back; don't need Addison to shove her fingers around my leg for the bullet.

Afte

r rummaging through my pack, I pulled out a shirt and tied it as tightly as possible around my bleeding thigh then made sure to secure it with gauze tape from my feeble supply of first aid.

"Aaaaargh!" I pushed to my feet and almost fell back down but tripped around on one foot to gain balance. I limped forward a few paces and realized I wasn't gonna rescue shit like this. I hobbled after the footprints of Addison and the other man and was glad to find a fallen branch large enough to act like a makeshift crutch.

_God, please, don't do this. _

I shook my head in an attempt to shake the voice from my head. This wasn't the same situation and I wasn't going to let it happen to Addison. I swore it would never happen again to anyone while I was still alive.

One more flash of lightning and a deafening rumble of thunder heralded the rain that came down in torrents. I limped faster through the rain, keeping an eye on the footprints that were quickly disappearing in the sludgey mud until they were gone. I cursed inwardly and moved forward, hoping I was still going in the right direction. Rain rolled down my hair and into my face. Shit, shit, shit. Where could they have gone?

"Get the fuck of me!" I heard someone scream and knew I was somehow close to Addison. She screamed again which propelled me into motion. What could that fucker have done to cause her to scream like that?

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Please don't. _

_A woman's voice began sobbing frantically. _

_Please! Stop!_

_The sobbing ended in pained screams. _

Damn it, where was she?

* * *

**ADDISON**

Oxygen. Sweet, sweet oxygen.

The cotton in my head started to clear and I was able to hear noises as my consciousness returned. It was still raining and I wasn't alone.

"Immune to the Cordyceps."

"Does she taste as good as she looks?"

"Look at all that pale skin," I felt fingers stroke over my jaw and down my neck towards the open top of the button-down shirt I borrowed from Phil.

My eyes snapped open immediately before the owner of those fingers could cop a feel. I was met by so many pairs of eyes it almost looked like there was some sort of monster looking down at me. I jerked away from the hands and noticed that I still sported the handcuff bracelets. Another pair of hands reached for me and I snapped at the fingers. Bad idea. Soon I was covered by what felt like millions of hands. Some of the hands grabbed at my legs and I tried kicking them off but there were too many and my ankle was so broken I could barely get that leg to cooperate. My handcuffed arms were wrenched above my head but I didn't stop bucking against them. "Get the fuck off me!"

"Now, now, calm down and quit all that movin'," Southern Asshole. "You know what this world is about. You can't blame us fer wantin' any sort o' upper hand. It's survival of the fittest and we want nothin' to do with them Cordyceps anymore. Yer our ticket to survival. You understand."

I could not believe the heaping bowl of shit he was trying to feed me. "There is no damn way that _eating_ me will make you immune."

Southern Asshole leaned over me, pressing his broken nose into mine. "You were given immunity fer some reason and we're gonna take advantage o' it." He moved back an inch and then shoved his face into my soaking wet hair, inhaling my scent, making me cringe.

Then he fucking _licked_ my neck.

It was like that was the signal for them to move because suddenly they were frantically tearing at my clothes trying to get at my skin. I felt one tongue lap at my stomach and I screamed. Holy shit this could not really be happening. This day had to seriously have been a nightmare. There was no way my life had been smashed apart and turned inside out in a matter of hours.

"Oh, God, Fletch... What happened to us?" I whispered, tears polling and running down my face. So I was just gonna die? Through the haze of tears I saw one of the cannibals rear back ready to take a chunk out of my side and then they were tackled down by a blurred figure.

"The fuck?!" Someone roared and then deafening pops.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hard people screaming and more pops. Then I was being dragged up off the ground by my hair. All I could do was limp with the person who had me while I looked around, taking in the scene of dead cannibals around me.

And Phil standing in the midst of it with a shotgun in his hands.

"I'll blow your fucking head off, jack ass. Let her go and you can go free." Where'd he get the gun? Holy shit he plowed through all those people.

"You had a chance to live. You coulda run and forgotten she ever existed. " So Southern Asshole was still alive.

Phil pumped the shotgun and there was a menacing gleam in his stormy gray eyes. He stood unwavering with the gun trained on Southern Asshole. A flash of lightning lit the room and for the first time I noticed bones piled in the corners of the room and brown stains across the floors that were obviously not rust spots. "I don't think you heard me. Let her go."

Southern Asshole obviously had some sort of listening malfunction because there was a knife at my throat the next instant. Phil didn't waver but shifted his eyes towards me, trying to figure out how we were supposed to get out of this shit. I kept my eyes focused on Phil and took a breath. "I told you, I will kill you." I whispered.

With my bound hands I gripped Southern Asshole's arm and pushed my head forward. I felt the bite of the blade in my neck and then shoved back again, slamming the back of my skull into his nose. He yelled and looseened his grip on me. I dropped down with my hands firmly gripped around the knife he'd been holding then reared up, shoving the blade as far as I could into his gut.

"Addison!"

I whirled, spotted Phil still holding the gun up and I dropped down on my ass-though I barely had the choice; my ankle giving out way before I thought to move out of Phil's way.

BAM!

Red sprayed across my face-again-and then the reassuring thump of a body hitting the ground. I fell onto my back with a long sigh. Phil limped as quickly as he could towards me and fell beside me. Most likely his leg giving out on him too.

"You need to stop saving my ass. I can't keep up," I said with a tired smile.

Phil set the shotgun down and ran a hand through his soaked hair. "You are more trouble than you are worth."

"Actually I think my immunity to the Cordyceps makes me pretty damn valuable."


End file.
